


In the weirdest places

by Xiiee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hanzo is a Little Shit, M/M, big ass dragons, still a short one, written for a zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiiee/pseuds/Xiiee
Summary: Reaper infiltrates a building in order to gather blackmail material. He wasn't expecting to find out that someone else had already been there before him.





	In the weirdest places

His fingers clenched around the grips of his weapons at the faint clicking sound. There was someone, something, nearby. The smell of gunpowder permeated the air, familiar and comforting to the Reaper. The whole mission did not go according to plan. There were too many guards, too few blind spots, and not enough time between the watch patrols. Sombra’s contact was either unreliable or a complete idiot – maybe both. Whatever the reason, the bloodbath had been inevitable, and Reaper now expected a sizeable welcoming party huddled behind the door to the CEO’s office. Not that it bothered him. He had gone toe to toe with death too many times to count. He knew each and every step to the dance She lead. Death would soon blossom and no matter how many people stood behind the thin metal, he’d walk out victorious.

He heard the same clicking sound again as he rested a hand against the door. It was closer, although still faint. Skittering, like an animal. Brushing the unease away before it could settle in, Reaper pressed his weight on the office door and frowned when he felt the give way.

The door bumped against something and stopped, blocked by whatever was behind. The smell hit his nose: there was barely a hint of it, but it was definitely blood. Ever since waking up at Talon’s headquarters years ago, Reaper had this sixth sense – and he could tell that Death had already walked in the office where he had intended to retrieve a couple files Sombra had described as ‘the most well-guarded blackmail material you’ll ever find.’

Tendrils of smoke reached into the opening, tentatively gliding against the floor to probe further into the room. Entering the room only confirmed what he felt before: someone had been there before him. The job was done in an oddly clean manner, seemingly with as little bloodshed as possible. Most of the guards, judging by the holes in their bodies, had taken some kind of projectile through the eyes and the backs of their heads. The security cameras had their lenses shattered as if something had entered them, then been violently torn out. A quick, silent job – most probably an assassin.

There came that sound again. Tapping, like fingers on a keyboard. Oh hell no. That data was his for the taking, and there was no way it would leave in the hands of anyone else. Reaper strengthened his grip on his shotguns, stepping further into the office. Around the

corner would be the desk and computer, and most probably the unfortunate soul who tried to one-up him.

“Death comes,” Reaper growled, closing the distance.

There they were, bent behind the screen, a soft blue light reflecting on their face mask and their eyes. The intruder looked up, seemingly unimpressed, and went back to typing. There came the skittering again, followed by a flash of blue. Reaper could see a head, then a flexible body, longer than any anaconda he had met back in the day. He would have recognized it anywhere.

A dragon.

Reaper did not know whether to open fire or to shove his weapons back into their holsters. The intruder – the human intruder – tapped a little more on the keyboard before straightening back up, arms crossed over their chest. The blue dragon slithered on the ground past Reaper’s feet, throwing a glance and a growl his way before joining with the assassin. Reaper didn’t even need to peek at the bow slung on the other’s shoulder to know who it was.

“Whatever ‘Death’ wants from this place, he’s too late for it,” the masked assassin said, the mirth in his tone all too obvious. “Are you so sentimental that you won’t shoot me?”

“I didn’t expect you here, Hanzo.” Reaper pushed his mask up and away from his face, the gesture mirrored by the man behind the desk. “Was that the job you didn’t want to tell me about? Who’s paying you this time?”

The scoff he got as an answer as Hanzo pulled a flash drive from the computer and shoved it into one of the compartments on his belt should’ve pissed him off. Instead, Reaper found himself amused, albeit a little miffed. Nothing was easy with Hanzo. The man played his cards close to his chest despite their on and off ‘relationship’ – if he could even call it that.

“None of your business,” Hanzo quipped. Reaper opened his mouth to speak, only to get cut off. “And no matter what you’re going to say, Talon can’t top that. Some people tend to spend their money more liberally than you guys do.”

“Did they pay you to wear the whole spy getup too?” Reaper sniggered. “Costume party fetishists?”

Hanzo closed the distance faster than Reaper had expected. It would be easy. Reaper could just shoot him dead and take the flash drive without a hitch. Engaging in a fight to get it would be too much of a hassle – the man was good at hand to hand fighting, but could never resist a shotgun pressed against his chest if he had a will to live.

“Oh, you know. They have money to fund these little parties. And a man’s got to eat.”

Reaper still decided against it. Talon had taken a lot from him, but this little bit of entertainment was his alone to enjoy. Even when it came in the form of a man, sometimes a lover, sometimes a mercenary working for a rival organization. Nothing wrong with a little spice in their relationship.

“So,” Hanzo continued, “unless you’ve got a cold, hard–” Reaper felt him pressing up against his chest, watched as a smirk pulled at the other man’s lips. The proximity didn’t leave him indifferent. He could feel the heat spreading in his chest, making its way down. Hanzo seemed to feel it too, judging by the gleam in his eyes. He cut a very nice figure in those tight black clothes.

“–twenty-five thousand cash, then you’re not getting anything from me, Gabriel.”

One second Hanzo was all up against Reaper, and in the next he was already in the doorway, ready to make his escape. Reaper let out a snort, hoping not to let any disappointment peek through as he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

“I swear, sometimes you’re more of a little shit than your brother ever was.”

If the slight jab had hit, he couldn’t know. Hanzo had already pulled his mask back up, hiding both facial features and emotions from anyone watching. Reaper watched as the dragon followed along, jumping towards the ceiling and seemingly opening a maintenance hatch in the hallway. A second dragon dropped from the ceiling right next to Reaper and skittered back to its master. Had it been ready to jump on him the whole time?

“You might have some luck with the hard drive,” Hanzo informed him, already through the hatch. After a moment his upper body reappeared through the opening, looking at Reaper upside down. “I wiped it, but I heard you have a hacker who can work miracles with everything she touches.”

This was farewell, Reaper knew. He gave a quick wave of his hand, not caring whether Hanzo watched or not, before hurrying towards the computer and opening its case. Neither of them were good at anything too emotionally involved, and were even worse at saying goodbye. Ripping the hard drive from the torn open computer, Reaper walked back to the door, looking up at the hatch Hanzo had left open. He had still been kind enough to leave him with a clear escape route. Soon guards would be swarming the place in backup. He had to move quickly.

A flash of blue light almost blinded him and Reaper felt an electric surge jolt through his arm as he dropped the hard drive, shielding his face with his free hand. He swore he could hear a self-satisfied laugh coming from the roof as he picked the hard drive back up. In the center of it, the scatter arrow had exploded, dealing damage that was far beyond repair. Fuck. Sombra worked wonders, not miracles.

Hanzo had planned it from the very beginning. The next time they’d meet, Reaper would make sure to give him a piece of his mind. A cold, hard piece of his mind.

_ That little shit. _


End file.
